


Guilt lingers like the smell of death

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Series: We are anathema [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, The feanorians are still struggling with the seven deadly sins, and it's rather painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the work about the Feanorians and the 7 Deadly Sins.<br/>Celegorm and Lust.</p><p>English isn't my first language, please forgive the grammar and spelling mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt lingers like the smell of death

**Author's Note:**

> TW: NSFW, dubcon (slightly)
> 
> The title is a quote from Crave by Sarah Kane

"Don't." Curufin snapped coldly, his fingers wrapped on Celegorm's forearm to keep it from leaving. "Not now."  
"Why not, brother?" The grin on Celegorm's face was fierce, hungry, almost threatening. "Why wouldn't I do it now?"  
Curufin's grip tightened around his brother's arm. "I saw how you watched him, how you smiled at him. And I know that look, I know what it means. I know what you have in mind. Don't-- "  
"Jealous, Curvo?" Sharp teeth flashing behind his lips, Celegorm shrugged away from his brother, his grin turning into a vicious smirk. "I don't protest when you leave me to play with your golden king, let me at least enjoy myself with his gorgeous friends." He knew he was playing with fire by attacking Curvo on this field, but the challenge was too tempting, and Celegorm had always loved playing with fire. The unexpected reactions of the flames were always fascinating.  
His lips trembling slightly with what seemed to be frustration, Curufin released his brother's arm, but his grey eyes were still fixed on Celegorm, dark and stern. "What do you think it will bring you? You don't even know his name."  
"With such a pretty face, he doesn't need to have a name." Hunger shining in his smile, Celegorm left his brother's side and walked to the young elf who was slowly leaving the throne room. 

Curufin was right, of course. He was always so right, so perceptive; it would bring him nothing but a short relief. A pleasant respite that wouldn't last. But there was one thing Curvo would never be able to understand: this respite was vital, it was a burning urge that would save him from a threatening implosion.

 

Since they had arrived in Nargothrond, Tyelkormo had spent most of his time with Curvo. His brother was like a balme, a gentle coolness which could keep the flames away from his soul. But with his new obsession towards their cousin, Curufin was becoming more distant, depriving him from the only thing that could control his destructive impulse. And little by little, the old habits had came back, stronger, more violent and sharper than ever.  
Unfortunately the noble court of Nargothrond wasn't big enough for Celegorm's violent appetite. Yet, no shame would ever stop him and the looks he received sometimes from those who disapproved his behavior only increased his will, pushing him to go further, to shock and to unsettle their wisdom - what they called wisdom, but which was nothing but another way to constrain him. 

 

Celegorm followed the young elf silently, the scent left by the other filling his brain and already running through his veins. A hunt. That's what it was. A delightful hunt, and his prey knew he was coming closer, he knew what he wanted and what he would get. And how he loved that, this anticipation, this adrenaline that was slowly taking over him and driving him to the edge of madness.

After a few minutes, in an empty corridor, he reached him. Brown hair and an innocent smile, a strong body and a radiant spark in his eyes. The perfect prey, fit for the hunter. The smirk not leaving his lips, Celegorm approached slowly, casually, both of them knowing the purpose of this little game.  
"May I help you, my lord?" The other elf asked, this innocent smile still dancing on his lips. "Are you looking for something?"  
With the most detached expression, the Fëanorian shrugged but his eyes were wandering slowly over the other's body. "Possibly. Are you willing to help?"  
"Always, my lord."  
Suddenly Celegorm reached out, wrapping a strong hand around the elf's waist and resting the other on the back of his neck to pull him closer. Even if the young elf had wanted to flee, it would have been impossible, for Celegorm was holding him titghly, his powerful arms encircling him and giving him no chance to shift away. The kiss that followed was deep, long and hungry, but devoid of tenderness. It seemed Tyelkormo was only obeying to a violent impulse, as if he couldn't even control himself, stop himself. Did he really want it? His body wanted it and the proof was already growing between his thighs, but did his mind want it? Yet, as always, he didn't listen to his mind, following the burning need of his body instead. 

The young elf didn't try to escape and accepted the kiss with a troubling shyness. When Celegorm pulled away, he blinked. "My lord, I thought--"  
"Shh." The Fëanorian put his fingers upon the other's lips, his smile now filled with a lustful authority. The other didn't protest and allowed himself to be dragged through the corridors, Celegorm's hand wrapped around his arm. But he didn't take the time to reach his chambers and opened a door that led to a rather small room, where Finrod's concellors put some important documents about the realm. The place was empty, dark and the dust was laying peacefully upon the documents and the tables. Nobody had came here for years and nobody had thought anyone would come before a long time. 

Celegorm pulled the other inside and slammed him against the closest table. His movements didn't fit a lover but a warrior, the kind of warrior who would mercilessly rip the lungs of his enemy from their ribcage with his bare hands. The other elf struggled a bit as the Fëanorian ripped his robe apart, exposing a pale skin, a skin that hadn't seen the sunlight for a long time. But Celegorm didn't care about the other's appearance, about his health or his thoughts. All he wanted was the violent sensations promised by the melding of their bodies. 

With a series of quick movements, he undressed the elf, one hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer. Their lips met again, tongues and teeth sinking in each other's flesh, nipping, biting, brushing and rolling as groans and muffled moans raised from the back of their throats.  
His mind overtaken by the rush, by the absolute and terrible need, Celegorm couldn't even think about his partner. The other had accepted his kiss, he had shown a growing interest and the bulge between his leg was betraying his desire. That was enough for the Noldo. 

The younger elf was undressed now, and it didn't take long before Celegorm flipped him around and pinned him down, his stomach flat against the table. Did he struggle? Did he protest?  
Surely not. Why would he say anything? That's what they both wanted, after all. 

With a slight kick, Tyelkormo parted the other's legs, his hand still laying on the back of his neck to keep him down. With his free hand, he quickly opened his own robe, just enough to free his erection from the fabric and to take himself in hand. After a few licks on his fingers, he pressed two of them against the other elf's entrance and carelessly prepared him. Yet, his patience was growing weak, his cock burning between his legs, in his palm, and the fierce tension of his body yelling for relief. Patience is a painful thing when your whole body is but a blinding fire, when the flames of desire devour your soul and ripped your guts.  
With another groan filled with a painful lust, Celegorm pulled his fingers out and positionned himself behind the other, his heart already pounding hard with the anticipation, unable to hear the other elf's words and moans (or cries?) through the mist, the dark smoke that was laying upon his sanity. 

With one violent thrust, he penetrated him, he took him with the destroying strength of his fevor.  
And he could feel his heart burst with the flood of adrenaline, the colours and the figures around him vanishing as the tightness of the other surrounded his flesh. His hand leaving the neck to clasp a shoulder, the other finding its way to the brown locks, Celegorm held onto the body before him and started to move violently, desperatly, as if life itself was relying on his movements. As a warrior on a batterfield, as hunter facing his prey, he couldn't allow any wrong move, he couldn't let his body betray him, nor could he waste a single second.  
Sharp breath falling from his lips with each new thrust, Celegorm fucked the young elf through the madness of his own delight, he fucked him as if he could rip the other's soul off his body and keep it for himself, he fucked him as if salvation was waiting at the end of it, as if he could clean the blood with his seed and cover the screams with his moans.  
Blind and deaf.  
Insensitive.  
Losing his senses in the terrible embrace and make it last, make it last until the world falls apart, until his fëa is swallowed by this everlasting darkness that had been threatening him for so long.  
But for now, he was only swallowed by the intensity of the sensations, his fingers pulling on the brown locks of this nameless, faceless lover. 

Celegorm came with a loud groan, his seed spreading inside the other and his nails digging into his flesh. Why did it never last?  
Catching his breath, he quickly pulled out and used the table to brace himself, his legs shaking slightly with the tremors of the orgasm. He felt a hand on his waist. His lover's trembling hand which was gently calling for him. Frowning, Tyelkormo glanced at the other and realized that he hadn't came yet, and the young elf was now looking at him with a foolish hope in his eyes. None of them spoke, but the younger one was obvioulsy begging for a few caresses, for a touch, a kiss, anything that could relieve him from the painful tension between his legs. 

Calmly, Celegorm laced his robe, giving a look at the other elf's erection. And as he kept his eyes on the throbbing member in front of him, while the young one silently begged him, a cruel smirk appeared on Tyelkormo's lips, soon followed by a disdainful snort. Without any word, without any stroke, Celegorm turned on his heels and headed to door, leaving the other alone in his misery.

Cold and proud, he left the room, losing his smirk as soon as he closed the door behind him. There was a bitter emptiness in the pit of his stomach, the unsatisfying fuck leaving him with nothing but a moment of relief for his body. As always. The tension was soothed, yet his soul was still aching with the ashes of his own brutality.  
And as he walked back to his chambers, Celegorm laughed. He laughed bitterly, shamelessly, desperately, so painfully aware of the uselessness of it all. Because he knew, oh yes he knew that nothing would appease his torment, nothing would wash away his sins, nothing would ever bring him peace.  
He knew this hunger was but the dark reflection of the fire that was eating him from inside.


End file.
